Unseen
by TheSingingGirl
Summary: She arrived at court an orphaned girl of ten years, utterly alone save for her governess... Conviction was the word that summed this girl up; it was in her poker-straight spine, her lifted chin and most of all in her knowing green eyes.
1. The début

She arrived at court an orphaned girl of ten years, utterly alone save for her governess. The woman in question was a kindly matron by the name of Katie who had raised the child from birth. She was often to be heard saying that "it was such a shame, that she doesn't have a mother. It would be bad enough for a boy, but for a little girl... well, I do what I can."

The little girl in question did not seem inclined to believe that she was at any disadvantage. She gave the air of knowing what was and what was not right, and having very clear convictions that this was where she ought be, whatever the circumstances. Conviction was the word that summed this girl up; it was in her poker-straight spine, her lifted chin and most of all in her knowing green eyes. No amount of gentle coercion from Katie had been able to soften the piercing gaze of those eyes.

Katie was a calming presence in the child's life, with her reprimands and her comforting words that never changed and never would. She knew her charge better than her own daughter, God rest her soul, and prided herself on it. Katie's inane babble filled the child's days more surely than meals or sleep or water, and indeed in these past years the chatter had been far more readily available than the luxury of sustenance. War did that to a nation.

For a young girl, this child knew far too much about war, and this war in particular. Perhaps that was true of every child, but this one knew even more than the rest. She knew not only the harsh reality that everyone can die, that some will, that food and water and safety become scarce; she knew that the war was primarily a fight against the evil sorcerers in the Great Purge but also that its secondary aim was to forge a true alliance between her father's nation and Camelot, up to and including the annexation of her nation by Camelot, through her. As the sole heir to Gore, her father's realm, she was immensely valuable, and knew it. She also knew that her father had been blinded to the dangers he would face. Most importantly, she had known he would die. She had told him not to go to battle. She had told him Uther would not send more men.

He didn't listen to her.

Aged ten, she had an absolute faith in her own prowess as a Seer, not that she would have used that word. She knew simply that what she dreamed came to pass. She did not doubt this. She could not, when the proof surrounded her entire life. As a child, this did not worry her. It was what she was; she had never known anything else. Of course, her father and Katie had both cautioned her not to mention this gift to anyone, especially to anyone of Camelot. There, the distinction between malignant sorcery and harmless magic was non-existent, and her gift would be seen as a threat. She knew this.

It seemed to many who met her that there was little this child did not know. Even if she was unaware of a fact, she would absorb it quietly and calmly, and never let the speaker know that she had been at a disadvantage in terms of knowledge. More than this, though, she gave off an air of omniscience, perhaps as a result of her gift.

Very rarely did her aura of conviction and omniscience slip, but slip it did, for she was a caring girl. She had always been disinclined to believe in killing of any sort and had rather the affinity for stray cats; Katie had often had to smuggle an overfed animal back out of whatever refuge in which they were currently residing, after her charge had smuggled it in. Pets were simply not an option for a noble girl on the run, much less so cats, the familiars of witches. Stray puppies were often tolerated for a little longer though at the most until they could be trained to be a guard dog or hunting dog. Lord Gorlois' pack of dogs was the most full of mongrels in the known world.

The child never showed weakness when it was herself under attack, whether that attack be physical or psychological; she knew the consequences of betraying fear. However she was oft to be found defending something or someone other than herself. Katie had found herself grateful for this selfless tendency on several occasions when she had been engaged in less than admirable activities, usually with her sweetheart John, who just so happened to be one of the guards assigned to keep her charge alive.

John was dead now, along with Lord Gorlois, ruling knight of Gore, and their abandoned darlings, Katie and the child, were entering the court of King Uther Pendragon.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" Katie asked as they waited to be announced.

The child turned to her with ever-solemn eyes, and nodded gravely. There was the echo in her face of absolute certainty as to why she was here. She apportioned blame in her simplistic childish way, and that blame did not go to he who had struck her father down in battle.

"Now you must be kind to his Grace," Katie cautioned nervously. Now was not the time for the child's frank stare to land them in trouble. There was magic in those eyes, and sometimes one couldn't help but see it.

"I know," the girl said in her clear soprano. "I will be."

She meant it. She knew that she would be kind to the king because he was doing a great kindness in taking her in without immediately organising her betrothal to his son. She also knew that she would always blame him for her father's death. In her view, the two concepts were reconcilable so long as they were kept separate in her mind. Here and now, this seemed not only achievable but imperative, and so there was no option and no doubt. She would be kind to King Uther. There was no other possible outcome.

With five words, Katie understood all of this. For such a cryptic child, she was painfully easy to read.

"Are you ready, m'lady, madam?" asked one of the guards, clearly expecting Katie to answer for the girl.

"Quite ready," the child replied, knowing that the guard had not been addressing her. A small smile flickered at the corner of her mouth and died before it could become discovered.

The guard blinked, surprised at her composure, then smiled at her. With a nod to his partner, they threw open the great oaken doors as a herald cried her name and girl and governess stepped forward.

There was a veritable audience for her début at court. The Knights were assembled, as were the various nobles, their retainers and servants, various personnel from the castle staff and of course the king and his prince. The child ignored them all, as though she were royalty in this kingdom too, walking with all the precision and measured pace of a princess. Katie stayed directly behind her, marvelling at her little girl who walked with her head held high.

Every person in the room noted that she was a remarkably pretty little thing, with dainty features, creamy white skin and the most glorious shining hair that tumbled in sculptured curves to her waist. The more astute saw that although her dress was no doubt designed for a child of the aristocracy, it was well worn, and the hem had been let down more than once. One or two shivered because they had attempted to look into her eyes, and were barely able to see that they were green.

Gaius frowned slightly. He had not been a sorcerer for nearly a decade, but he could feel the magic emanating from this highly political young girl. Politics and magic did not make good bedfellows, as well he knew, and he resolved to take an active interest in her upbringing. If, for her sake, he could quash her mythical abilities, it would greatly ease his mind. In the meantime, he would say nothing to Uther.

King Uther saw first the daughter of his dear friend. Gorlois had been one of his greatest allies and advisors, despite the obvious threat Camelot posed to his smaller nation. They were related as most rulers of this area were, and although the affinity was distant, Uther considered Gorlois a cousin. His daughter, he considered a niece. Second, he saw her composure, admirable in a noble girl who had just become an orphan. Third, he saw the beautiful addition to his court, a companion of noble birth for Arthur and a first lady of the court.

Arthur, standing beside his father opposite the grand doors, fidgeted slightly. He was nine years old and longed to be outside practising his swordplay or his archery. He was not interested as of yet in the pomp and ceremony of the court, though it was fun to see everyone paying him attention. Today, no one was paying him any respect at all, and he was therefore not interested at all. He did not know any girls besides the servants, for there were none of suitable birth and breeding for him to consort with. Consequently, his childish mind connected girls with servants and believed they were all entirely below him.

The girl, as she approached, catalogued every person of note in the room even as she kept her eyes firmly on the throne just above King Uther's head. There were one or two knights who looked at her with pity, and she scorned them. Pity would do nothing. There was the old man with oddly long white hair who stayed deferentially behind Uther and frowned at her, but she could not place him, nor could she understand why he frowned. She would have to investigate him later, especially as he was positioned so close to the King.

Arthur she saw as another noble young boy who would have to be polite to her and to whom she would have to be polite. He was of no consequence, or at least not yet. As soon as she reached a marriageable age, maybe in three years' time, she would have to pay him far more attention. She knew that one day she would have to be married, and she knew that there were many who would want to marry her to their sons. Perhaps better the Crown Prince than son of a mere knight, though she had yet to evaluate him. Never mind; she need not worry about him yet.

Katie felt daunted by the experience. She had never been in a court such as this; Lord Gorlois had been at war for too long to allow his daughter to attend court if there even was one at the time. In fact, she was rather closer to being scared than she would ideally like to admit. The king terrified her; with his reputation for an exceedingly intolerant view of magic, she feared for her charge's very life. She tried not to look fearful, and hoped no one would be watching her. Goodness knows if she were watching their entrance, she certainly wouldn't be looking at the dowdy governess following behind this little wonder.

Finally, they reached their destination and both dropped into a dutiful curtsy, Katie's the lower because of her own lower status. They rose together, both keeping their heads down for a second before the child looked back up.

"My lady," the king greeted her.

"Your highness," she replied.

Her voice, clear and high with a western lilt to it, made one or two look up and reassess her. She spoke with strength and with certainty; she was used to performing before an audience. Gaius felt distinctly uneasy; she reminded him far too closely of a younger Nimueh, back when she had been his student and protégé.

Uther appraised her approvingly. Such poise was to be expected of a well-bred young girl. "It is with pleasure that we take you into our home, although we would it were not in such sad circumstances."

"I too would that were so, Sire, but I thank you nonetheless for your kind welcome."

The words were unfailingly polite, but Katie trembled. It was clear to anyone who cared to listen that the child blamed the king for the aforementioned sad circumstances. Thankfully no one was inclined to listen for discrete insults in the words of a girl, and no one else noticed.

King Uther stepped forward and came to kneel before the child in a familial manner. Her eyes narrowed a little, surprised. This was not kingly behaviour.

"I want to welcome you into my family, my lady," he said gently, though still loud enough that every last man in the room could hear him. "You will be as a daughter to me, and as a sister to my son Arthur."

Her eyes narrowed still further, but she steeled herself to answer:

"I thank you, Sire."

"There is no need to do so. It is my duty to provide for you, and my pleasure." He smiled. "Now, I expect you would like to be taken to your chambers, is that so?"

She took a second to consider which would be the right answer, then decided it would be best to agree with the king. "That would be lovely, thank you, Sire."

"Very well. Would you like to dine with me tonight?"

Again, she thought it best to acquiesce. "It would be an honour, Sire."

He stood and took a step back. Katie breathed a sigh of relief.

"I shall see you tonight," Uther declared.

"Thank you, Sire," she repeated. She curtsied again, Katie following suit, and turned regally to exit the room.

Uther frowned as he watched her go, noticing along with everyone else that her long skirt had been visibly patched. He beckoned to an aide behind him.

"Send my tailor up," he said in a low voice. "And find her a handmaiden, one of her own age, I think; her governess can do the rest."

"Yes, Sire."

"Poor child," Uther muttered.

The said child stiffened as the door closed behind her.

"Excuse me, my lady, madam?" said one of the guards. "Shall I guide you to your chambers?"

"Yes, thank you," the child answered, colder than she had spoken before.

Katie hurried to her side. "Now, that was very kind of the king, wasn't it?" she prompted, trying to loosen the girl's locked spine.

"He is not my father," she said simply.

Katie glanced at the guard, who was now studiously practicing the art of being deaf. "I know," she whispered, "but he said he will be _as_ your father. He's not trying to replace him."

"I know."

"Come now. You must be polite and friendly."

"I know."

"Oh, I know you know," Katie said. "But will you accept it, Morgana?"

* * *

_A/N: Please don't review telling me that Morgana's totally unaware of her powers - in my own head I know how she gets from here to Merlin s1. She's definitely my favourite character, because she's layered in ways that others might not be. I'm not entirely sure for how long this story will continue, but I do have the next six months to a year planned out vaguely in my mind. I would imagine not too much further than that._


	2. A series of servants

Her rooms were spacious and richly furnished. The bed had hangings of crimson velvet and elaborate tapestries covered the walls. That they had a tendency to portray images of war was immaterial; the year was only just turning to spring and Morgana would be glad of them in the cold nights. A window with real glass opened onto the courtyard below, filling the room with sunlight. In short, these were the grandest that Morgana had ever ventured within, let alone lived in, and her eyes widened in astonishment.

When Morgana had been born, her first home had been a castle much like this, a little smaller and a little more homely, but a castle nonetheless. When she was three years of age and her mother died, however, the little lady was taken from her home, fleeing with the castle household to a loyal noble's estate. From there, they had moved from house to house, and their longest stay turned out to be safe only because their host had been feeding information to their enemies. Morgana was not used to the concept of a home, and she certainly wasn't used to the grandeur of a royal palace.

Katie noticed the change as soon as they were alone; she noticed the widened eyes and smiled. For all her grief and her other worldliness, she was a girl like any other and could be swayed like any other. She was just a girl when she had no audience.

Governess and charge both remained silent as Morgana examined her chambers with increasing wonder and excitement. The child forgot her regal bearing as she opened her new wardrobe, empty as of yet, but made of beautiful dark wood and ornately carved. She closed the doors with a melodic click and whirled to finally go and fling herself on that bed, and stare up at its canopy.

"I dreamed it from here," she announced. "I didn't see the rest of the room."

Katie's good mood vanished immediately, transmogrified into fearful fretting. "My lady, you know—"

"I mustn't speak of my dreams," the child finished dutifully. "Can I not when it is only you and me?"

"No, dear," Katie answered, and felt a surge of familiar anger as the child frowned. Not towards her charge, never, but towards these dreams and whatever source they might have. Any other child might be allowed to regale her nurse with an impossible tale or complain of a nightmare; why not this one who was struck by nightmares so often?

"Very well," Morgana said, and the light was gone from her eyes. She raised her head to turn a pleading gaze on Katie. "Then can you please not call me 'my lady'?"

Katie sighed, and sat down beside her. The question was more loaded than one might think. Uther's court was much more formal than Morgana was accustomed to, and while she might play the part to perfection, she wanted only reminders of her life before. She wanted a parental figure who could call her by her name and not worry for its familiarity. She wanted safety within her own household, even if she had never known it outside before. Katie, however much she might want to give these things, was scared to provide them for her.

"Darling, you know that I am your servant," she began.

"I have always known that, and you have always called me Morgana."

"Let me finish," Katie cautioned, more sternly than she might ordinarily have done. "Here, things are done a little bit differently." She watched Morgana swallow the urge to say _I know_ again. "The King's servants do not call him by his name. The Prince's don't either."

"I am not the Prince, nor the King," Morgana countered quietly.

With a small smile, Katie answered, "But you are to be as a Princess here. It doesn't matter what I call you, my dear lady Morgana. A title is not important."

Morgana looked ready to argue, but before she could commence there was a knock at the door. She jumped up, flung back her hair and called imperiously, "Enter."

An old man poked his head around the door. His silver white hair was combed back from his forehead to reveal ice blue eyes beneath thick wiry eyebrows. His nose was straight but over long, and his chin was sharp. As he emerged into the room, it became clear that sharp was the word to describe him, for he was more a collection of angular joints than a cohesive body, being paper thin. Although his spine was poker straight, he walked as though in a constant bow, perhaps because of his height, which was slightly above average. A servant, clearly, but a highly placed one, if one were to judge by his smart clothing and the way his head was held up at the end of his bowed neck. Behind him came an equally elderly woman, her steel coloured hair combed harshly back into a bun at the nape of her neck. She, too, was painfully thin, and she was dressed in a severely cut black dress, giving her the appearance of being a shadow. From the way she stayed just behind the man and the way her eyes were perpetually focused on the floor, she might as well have been.

"Excuse me, my lady," the man said in a clear, clipped voice. "I am the King's personal tailor, and he has asked me to attend to your need for any new clothing you might desire."

Morgana's eyebrows were delicately raised at the man's odd manner of speaking, but she refrained from commenting.

"My name is Andrew," the tailor offered when a response was not forthcoming.

Morgana nodded.

"This is my wife and assistant, Mary."

Another nod.

Katie, standing behind her, sensed the problem. Morgana did not know what 'new clothing she might desire' as she didn't know what was needed for a woman of her newfound station. She didn't want to risk asking for anything and having her request deemed as improper or impolite.

"My lady will need everything new," she intervened smoothly. "We left our last abode in rather a hurry."

"Of course," the man smiled gratefully, but his eyebrows creased together. Clearly he was not expecting to be addressed by this lowly placed woman. "What would that—"

"We will trust everything to your discretion," Katie interrupted, smiling disarmingly.

Andrew blinked in surprise, but hid his emotion well. "Of course, madam," he repeated. From his pocket, he withdrew a piece of white tape. "Shall we begin?"

Morgana smiled briefly, icily, and stepped forward to show willingness. Not having spoken before, she thought it best not to make herself look a fool by suddenly chattering away. She obviously felt very uncomfortable as the woman, Mary, ran the tape over her body and made small marks on it, but she held herself straight and allowed herself to be manipulated like a doll.

For her part, Mary never gave an indication of approval or otherwise. She was like a soldier on patrol, utterly controlled. Katie found her slightly unnerving.

Andrew stood back, surveying the young girl with a critical eye. "It's such a shame she is in mourning," he muttered, apparently unaware that he could be heard with ease. "Such a pale complexion would suit reds: scarlet or crimson, certainly. Perhaps not for a child. But purples and midnight blue... not grey, I think. Not for such colouring... one black, maybe, for propriety..."

"Something lighter for daywear?" Katie suggested.

He looked up, surprised at the interruption. "Well, yes. Not too light, of course, it wouldn't be seemly in this time of—" he lowered his voice conspiratorially "—grieving."

Morgana didn't flinch, giving Andrew the impression that she hadn't heard.

Presently, Mary stepped back and Andrew gave a courtly bow.

"I shall return tomorrow with the first of your gowns to be altered," he announced.

"And what of my nightclothes?" asked Morgana. The fire in her eyes was carefully controlled to flicker only slightly. It was an impertinent question, a crude question, but it was a question that no one else seemed willing to ask.

Thankfully, Andrew positively beamed at being addressed directly by her. "Mary will bring them to your governess this evening while you dine with the King," he informed her proudly.

None but Katie would have noticed the stiffening of the child's spine.

Morgana smiled courteously. "Thank you," she said prettily.

"It's an honour," Andrew declared. He made to leave, but Mary stepped towards Katie.

"You would do well to let the young lady speak for herself," she warned. "Noisy servants are not appreciated here."

For all her caution and care, Katie had her pride and she could feel it simmering. Noisy? Why, all she had done was served Morgana, speaking for her when she would rather not speak herself. How dare this woman presume that she was behaving in any way detrimental to her charge? Nevertheless, she kept her composure and inclined her head in thanks.

"I shall remember your words," she promised.

The gaze of both foreigners followed the couple out of the room. Neither was amicable.

"So this is how it is to be in Camelot," Morgana stated.

Katie wanted to say something reassuring, but Morgana turned abruptly to her. Her face was cold and yet still impassioned.

"We need to learn about the ways of this court," she said, "and quickly."

Another knock on the door cut off their conversation yet again. Immediately, Morgana was smiling, as though Katie had just spoken the most charming joke, and she simply had to smile. The change was like the lighting of a torch, and utterly convincing. "Enter," she called once again.

This time they were a woman and a girl of a dark complexion, and they held hands. The woman was still dressed in an apron from whatever task she had been doing before she was called away, but she had a single daisy behind her left ear, standing out starkly against her near-black hair. The hair in question was wild and tightly curled: a veritable mane. Her face was kindly and pretty in a gentle way, and she smiled. The little girl bore an amazing resemblance to her. Her hair was perhaps a little better controlled, and tied back with a ribbon acquired from somewhere, and her face, although still round with youth, was a little darker in colour and bore marks of a beauty that had yet to be realised. For the moment, though, that face looked positively terrified. She clutched at the woman's hand as though it prevented her from drowning.

"Hello, my lady," the woman said. Her voice was bright and welcoming, and Katie found herself liking this newcomer. "My name is Alicienne, and this is my daughter, Guinevere."

Those were noble names, and Morgana found herself curious as to why on earth they had taken such aristocratic names for themselves when they were quite clearly servants.

"Though we more often go by Ali and Gwen," Alicienne continued. "Gwen's been asked to be your handmaiden, my lady?"

"I... I see."

Morgana spoke hesitantly, because she hadn't considered having extra servants. In Gorlois' court, she had kept only Katie in her personal service. She thought it rather extravagant to have someone else, too. The intrusion into her private life, too, had the potential to be a nuisance.

Katie longed to step in and speak for the child, but she didn't dare. If too many people took a disliking to her, her position could be at risk.

Ali smiled still. "She's a little shy, and she's not done much in the way of being a lady's maid before, but she'll learn. Gwen, say hello."

Gwen barely breathed, "Hello, my lady."

That was the key. Morgana saw in Gwen someone to be protected and she smiled at her. "Hello, Gwen," she said, and her friendliness was not feigned. "Don't be scared."

Gwen looked up from where she had been determinedly scrutinising her feet. "Sorry," she said hastily. "I do not mean to be scared."

Morgana smiled still wider. "How old are you, Gwen?"

"I'm twelve, my lady."

"Well, I'm ten. You don't need to be scared at all."

Morgana had had few friends in her own country. Children were not common on the battlefield, and the daughters of their hosts had been kept away for fear that a child's words were less cautious than those of an adult. Gwen, by contrast, lived in the lower town where the children ran rampant and the friendless were hard to find. She had begun working from an early age, though, and had at the moment a post in the royal kitchens, washing whatever there was that needed to be washed. As a consequence, she had less playtime than her contemporaries, and was not as close as maybe she should have been to any one of them.

They went well together. Ali and Katie shared a knowing look as Gwen consented to smile.


End file.
